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a-problematic-writer · 1 year

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“Did you really buy a whole bag of candy?”

Aiden’s lips twitch upward as he pulls a pair of scissors from his knife drawer to cut the package open. Petra leans into the counter behind him, crossing their arms. He looks over his shoulder at them as he sets his scissors back into the drawer. She raises a brow at him, lips pulled into a smirk.

“Maybe. It’s for the trick ‘r treaters!”

“Uh, huh—“

She crosses her legs as she drums her fingers on her arm. He rolls his eyes and turns fully toward them.

“Ah, come on, Pet!” He can’t fight the grin anymore. “It totally is!”

“Because kids are totally gonna come up to the fifth floor of an apartment.”

He sticks his tongue out at her and sifts through the bag a moment. It was on sale tonight and was one of those bags that had over a hundred pieces of candy inside of varying brands and types. He bought it on a whim without really thinking about the fact he wasn’t the biggest candy fan. Petra did have a soft spot for Milk Duds though. His eyes come back to them and he finds they’re already eyeing the front of the bag—gaze focused right on the Milk Duds label. He laughs and her eyes cut up to his. He grins and nods his head toward his living room.

“Wanna go sit on the floor and dig through this and pretend we’re kids swapping candy again?”

Her brow furrows a moment before her lips twitch upward and she pushes away from the counter, starting towards his living room.

“I want every box of Milk Duds and at least half of the skittles!”

He follows after them close on their heels.

“As if I’m giving you any of the Skittles!”

They stay sat on his living room floor sorting through the candy for a good while. They both are thoroughly disgusted by the amount of Whoppers and push them to the side for Lukas. He’d always liked them and Aiden could never put his finger on why. She takes every box of Milk Duds [They already opened a box and have eaten all of them] He can’t stand them so he’s more than happy to let her have them. There’s a good amount of chocolate in here that he can already see himself pawning off to Jesse. They’d always really liked chocolate. He sets aside the Kit Kat bars for Maya. By the end, everything is sorted and there’s a nice pile of Skittles he’s pleased with. Petra keeps eyeing them.

“You aren’t getting any of them, ginger.”

She scoffs, eyes narrowing as they meet his, arms crossing. The indignation would be cute on them if he didn’t know it could lead to her fighting him for said Skittles. He flashes a grin her way.

“All I want is half, eyebrows!”

He breathes a laugh through his nose; his elbow pressing into his knee as he settles his chin into his palm.

“You’re not getting it.”

A scowl tightens their features.

“Yes, I am.”

He shakes his head.

“No, you’re not.”

Her glare tightens.

“That’s not fair!”

He scoffs.

“I bought them,” he says, “I get say on what goes where and I’m keeping my skittles.”

They shove his shoulder and he laughs.

“I’m your best friend!” They say, “I think I deserve at least half of the skittles.”

They eye the pile of skittles a moment then reach for them and he catches their wrist.

“No.”

“Aiden—“

“What’re you going to do about it?”

Logically, that was the worst response he could have chosen. Petra was a highly competitive and challenge-oriented person and he’d only realized his mistake when their lips twitched upward. He barely has a moment to feel dread before she jabs at his ribs. He yelps and cuffs her arm.

“Quit!”

“Give me half the skittles!”

“No!”

That starts the real onslaught of them trying to poke him in his ribs, his torso, his shoulder; and he smacks their hands away each time, telling her to stop each time but she keeps up her assault—soon he’s catching her wrists instead and they’re both laughing and starting to shove and one she aims at him is enough to knock him onto his back. He’d had a tight enough grip on their arm then that they’re pulled over with him. They manage to catch themself before they collide together and they’re now hovering over him and his breath hitches and he curses himself.

The crush was something stupid. Something he had hated vehemently when it cropped up a couple years ago because they were such good friends and the last time he was romantically involved with a childhood friend things fell apart spectacularly. He and Lukas were only just beginning to repair their friendship. So he’s stayed quiet about it. He was more than certain she didn’t see him that way. But some part of him hoped she did despite everything. He’s swore maybe he’s seen it. But he’s sure he’s in so deep he’d likely see anything as interest at this point.

They haven’t moved and that sets his brain on fire and heartbeat racing. They got this look on their face he can’t read too. They’re thinking and he’s not sure on what. He tries to speak but he stutters instead and then there’s no real reason to speak. She leans down and he swears his heart stops as her lips press to his. He freezes at first, like a deer in headlights; he doesn’t know how to breath—thinks his heart even forgets how to beat—then his hand is in their hair and he’s kissing them back. And any thoughts of how this could ruin everything between them are shoved to the back burner.

It ends far too soon; a loud three rap knock—Gill’s signature one—echoing throughout his apartment. Petra springs back rocking back onto her knees. He inhales sharply through his nose, cursing everything. He pushes himself up into a seated position and glowers toward the door. The knock sounds again and he groans before pushing himself up.

He spends the walk to the door trying to ease his frustration enough that he won’t immediately pinch Gill for interrupting.

#my writing #kyler writes #mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm aiden #mcsm petra #mcsm aidetra #mcsm paiden #she/they Petra my beloved #I wrote this in one go and don’t think I’m going to edit it #lmao hi happy halloween #this was inspired by a prompt #‘’two teasing best friends have a first kiss after a play fight’’#paraphrased a bit #I found it some days back and was like oh I can’t NOT write Aiden and Petra with this #aidetra fans come get y’alls juice!#me? not post aidesse??? it’s more likely than u think

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aspiringhexgirl · 1 year

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one of the greatest albums of all time perhaps

#she speaks #kim petras #kim petras my beloved #Spotify #mp3

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erismourn · 1 year

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crossing my fingers that all this telesto shit means we’re FINALLY getting Season of Sjur

#mads.txt #look. theyre doing the same thing cayde did when he gave petra a coded message abt the harbingers #[the 'it's on enceladus' message]#telesto most beloved by the queen + sjur being loved by the queen also #bring back my huge wife.#unrelated but it would be funny if she also had a russian accent #saint :handshake: sjur

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dorkousloris · 1 year

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im never going to shut up how stella's first thing to do after the admin attack was over is to build a house for lluna (her llama for context), and actually let her go (because i hc that stella believes she doesn't deserve being lluna's friend, as she had knew how she had hurt lluna in the first place), and literally offering to help rebuilt the beacontown.

like yes, canon stella got a complete change of heart due to how rush episodes are by the end of the season, but i like to think that stella still have a long way to even have a complete change of heart.

she need to step back, have a little space of her to think over her own previous actions up to now, and you know, the constant feeling she doesn't deserve all of it, not at all, and trying to work on being less rude--

#lori speaks up #stella albert | mcsm #I LOVE THINKING ABOUT SO MANY WAYS FOR STELLA MY BELOVED BLORBOOOOO #girl so rude she realized she really messed up after a BIG call out and having to step back so she could think over it #one day i want to write/draw how petra and stella had interacted #i already knew jessie and stella get along while jessie was recovering #its why when they came back jessie was happy to see stella but petra ignores her not out of spite but out of just a reminder of what stella #brought petra through yk yk???#but petra and stella? these two have a long way before they even became friends AND even became lovers #now with jessie together #i will never shut up that stella will start off believed she doesn't deserve everything because she was ashamed of her past self!!!#ALOT!!!#SHAKES THIS BLOBRO SO MUCH

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 11 months

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Unholy

pairing: sugar daddy!Seungcheol x socialite!reader

genre: smut smut SMUT - minors dni.

warnings: dom!cheol, bratty sub!reader, thigh riding, cursing, ass slapping, cheating, degradation, use of petnames (baby, princess, darling), daddy kink, hair pulling, manhandling, unprotected sex (stay safe), mentions of breeding, marking, finger sucking, possessiveness, cheol and reader are actual red flags

no word count, it was speed-written

summary: inspired by Unholy - Sam Smith ft. Kim Petras

Author’s note: This was written on an absolute whim i’m going through some serious cheolrot - tagging @duhnova for obvious reasons

nsfw taglist: @rosecult @bibinnieposts @ovai @littlemisssarcastic21 @tinkerbell460 @jonghyuns-husband @romromthedeer @y00nzin0 @llsiriusminorisll @booyouwhore17 @delicatewerewolfsoul @aliceu

“Come on, princess, shake those hips like I know you can,” Seungcheol slaps your ass and you whine, “Better give me a good reason for letting your pussy make a mess over my pants.”

“Y-Yes, Daddy,” you pout your lips and speed up your hips, grinding your pussy over the crushed velvety material of his pants, “Your thigh feels so fucking good, ugh.”

“Darling,” Seungcheol grips your jaw and forces you to look directly at him, “A pretty little baby like you shouldn’t use bad words.” He parts your lips with his thumb and you eagerly suck on it, moaning and swirling your tongue around the thick digit as if it was a cherry lollipop.

“Oh, Y/N...” Seungcheol chuckles as he watches your body shake over his thigh, “You’re trying so hard to be worth my time and money, don’t you?”

Under different circumstances, you would have clawed his eyes out for treating you like another desperate gold digger, but quite frankly? He was absolutely right in everything he said.

You don’t even need his money, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it when you use his sleek black card to pay for all the unnecessary accessories, makeup and clothes that shine a bit more than a set of Swarowski earrings. Besides, it’s not like they were unnecessary to you, since being a socialite practically requires flashy clothes and accessories.

Choi Seungcheol is no better than you - a seemingly responsible man, attending all social events with his beloved wife, never missing a chance to show how much he adores her in front of the cameras and blinding lights of the high society.

That’s what she thinks as well, judging from the comfortable and luxurious life she’s leading thanks to her lovely husband.

Except said husband loves money more than anything else. And if it’s money well spent? Two birds with one stone.

Another thing Seungcheol loves is getting his dick wet - And your pussy does that with a perfect streak of two months.

“I’m definitely more worth than your little trophy wife,” you bite back with a smirk, “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here to fuck me, Cheol.”

His demeanor changes within a split second and he’s lifting you off his thigh, throwing you over his shoulder and then throwing you on the bed of your apartment, face down on the mattress and ass up in the air.

“You are in no fucking place to talk about my life, little bitch,” he flips over your dress and harshly pulls your panties from your body, ripping the flimsy material in half, “Nepo babies like you only want to spend money and fuck around like you own the world.”

Seungcheol slaps your ass once, twice and two more times before he unbuckles his soiled pants to let his rock hard cock spring free. He digs his hand in your hair and pushes his cock in your cunt with one swift motion, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull.

He starts fucking you like a mad man, his pelvis slapping against your ass without mercy. You almost feel like frothing at the mouth from how good it feels to let the fat tip of his shaft bully your pussy and

“Fucking nepo baby with a fucking tight cunt,” he grunts, his lips hovering above the shell of your ear, “My fucking nepo baby. Say it.”

“Y-Your nepo b-baby,” you gasp, “Oh my God, Daddy, your cock is so good!”

“That’s more like it,” Seungcheol plants his right leg in the mattress to fuck his cock deeper in you, “That’s how you should act when you’re with me, especially underneath me, Y/N.”

The noises you make are whiny, loud and utter music to his ears. You’re drooling on the sheets, your hair sticking out in random directions due to Seungcheol’s iron grip on it, mind going blank from pleasure.

The knot in the pit of your stomach tightens to the point of breaking in a rather violent manner, the previous stimulation from riding Seungcheol’s thigh amplifying that sensation.

“D-Daddy, I’m gonna cum, fuckfuckfuck, I’m cumming!” You scream like a baby bunny caught by a predator as your pussy tightens around his cock, your walls massaging his length in a final attempt to milk him.

Your heart drops when Seungcheol pulls out his cock and jerks himself off until he blows his load all over your ass, milky streaks painting your skin. He lets out a groan and taps his cock on your asscheek, biting his lip at your wrecked sight.

“Why didn’t you come inside me?!”

“Oh darling,” Seungcheol buttons his pants and smooths over his clothes, “Did you really think you deserved to get your pussy filled up with my cum after misbehaving so much?”

“But-” You opt to protest and sit up, but Seungcheol stops you with his hand on your jaw again.

“Y/N. If I say ‘shut up’, you shut up. If I say ‘cum’, you cum. If I say you don’t deserve my cum in you, then you fucking don’t.” He taps your cheek twice and captures your lips in a short-lived yet filthy kiss full of his tongue, leaving you wanting for more.

“See you next week, princess - You better behave until then or I’m cutting down on your ‘pretty girl with pretty pussy’ privileges.”

#svthub #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen #tw toxic #tw cheating

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zeldamomoe · 7 months

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Happy birthday to Petra Macneary my beloved💜 She's the reason I finally got into Fire Emblem XD I love cosplaying her but lace front wigs are so hard to manage!

📸Top photos are by my partner Raph & edits by me! 🧵sewing & beading help on this costume was from MagicalAni

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phoebus-cluster · 6 months

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A sample/oneshot of some Astarion headcanon re: his release after the year in a tomb

Finally gaining some steam on my Astarion fic. Fleshed out a little flashback scene. Hope you think it's cool, I love my angst and exposition. --- “How I’ve missed you, little one!”

There was a sudden, loud crack against the coffin door, the rustle of chain mail. A single, impossible ray of light sprung forth into the coffin, somewhere at his waist’s height. Out of the corner of his eye, he detected the glint of an axehead in the fresh opening, wedged and wriggling now to pry the lid open. He tried to peer downwards to better watch, but couldn't–his eyes were too dry to swivel in their sockets.

He blinked a few times to remove the film of dust from his eyeballs. It did nothing.

He could hardly hold a coherent thought, but felt that this must have been a dream.

The coffin lid ripped open and he keeled forward, the door no longer propping him upright. He crumpled in a heap, reality dawning on him as his face smacked into the ground. He lay there and watched the shadows of crackling firelight dance across the stone tiles for a while.

He was free.

He supposed he should have been happy. He gasped for fresh air weakly, as fresh as those musty catacombs could be.

A heavy boot dug into his gut and turned him onto his back. He now looked at a grinning skull looming over him, yellowed, shining and ugly, two black voids regarding him like eyes.

Death. Sweet release. Could it be?

“Tsk, tsk, boy. Is this how you greet your gallant savior? Your dear, old friend Godey?”

But of course.

Of course it wasn’t death. What had he expected?

Godey’s detestable laugh rang through the chamber around them.

“What a state, little one. Not so pretty now, are we? Not to worry. I think this look quite suits you.”

Godey seized him by his rags and hoisted him up with ease. He carried him now, up the stone steps of the catacombs and back into the palace.

Astarion's head hung limply, mouth agape, no energy, his muscles all but wasted away. The skeleton cackled again, adjusting and jostling the half-corpse in its arms–playing with him.

“Much easier than I recall,” he jested. “Why, you must be half the weight you were goin’ in.”

They clanked through the halls past velvet drapery, gaudy paintings, lacquered paneling, the luxe prison he remembered, same as ever.

“By the gods, Godey,” sneered a distant voice. “What is that smell? Fouler than any rat you’ve conjured for us before.”

“Shut it, Violet,” growled Godey. “Be a dear and call in your siblings, won’t you?”

She scoffed and whisked away.

They made their way to the spawn’s quarters as the other vamplings trickled in curiously, peering over Godey’s armor to better see the dust-blackened wretch he carried.

The skeleton unceremoniously flung him onto a bunk, the fellow spawn frozen in terror as they beheld a pathetically emaciated mummy with sunken eyes, taut skin, and dehydrated ligaments clinging to bone, grotesque as it pulsed and gasped for breath, struggling to writhe and smearing filth on the sheets.

A hush fell upon them all.

“...Brother?” whispered Aurelia.

“He lives!” cried a male voice, one Astarion did not recognize. “Gods above, it can not be. This is the lost brother you spoke of? I-I thought Master was perhaps bluffing!”

“Leave it to you, Petras, to fancy yourself more clever than Master,” chided Godey. “That’s right. Gather round, you lot, and gaze upon him. Yes, it is your beloved and terribly naughty big brother. Though he strikes a more uncanny resemblance to old Godey these days, don’t you think?”

He cackled and wrenched Astarion’s chin violently, turning his face for the others to see.

Dalyria stifled a revolted shriek, teary-eyed as she clapped her palm over her mouth.

"Let it be a reminder, then," continued Godey. "See what happens when you fail Master's orders? And still, it is Master's mercy that reunites him with us today."

Astarion finally found the will to speak.

He struggled, his lips shriveled back, his tongue desiccated and stuck to the roof of his mouth. Dust coated the insides of his throat.

His teeth finally found the edge of his lower lip, shrunken and tough.

“Fff…” he trembled.

He drew in more air, his breath ragged and hoarse. It sounded like a death rattle.

“Fuck you,” he puffed at Godey.

There was an upsetting crack as the pommel of Godey's sword collided with the side of his head. A few of the vamplings gasped.

“Dalyria, tend to this ingrate. Godey doesn’t need a nose to tell he’s more fetid than carrion.” He turned on his heel and clanked away.

“Ilmater, help us all,” uttered Dal. “For the love of gods, draw a bath. Water, some blood, this instant!”

---

Hoping to get chapter 1 out in the next week or so.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #work in progress #wip #astarion fanfic #it's giving aftermath of cask of amontillado i hope #ao3 #angst #astarion #astarion bg3 #petras #dalyria #violet #godey #my work

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sofasoap · 6 days

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Malen`kaya printsessa (Маленькая принцесса)

Pairing: Nikolai x F!Reader ( aka Mini ) + OC ( Anya MacTavish). hints of other pairings too. Warning: M Theme. Set in the future , spoiler for " Lastochka - raging waves". talk of children, pregnancy, violence. Author note: really writing this as a comfort fic for myself and @nrdmssgs wanting a comfort Nikolai fic :) this is for you.

The OC's belongs to my fellow Moots: Olga 'Zhar' Samoilova - @nrdmssgs Christine 'Riot' Vega - @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot Mylène "petra" scholten de ridder - @siilvan

“Papa! Papa!!”

Nikolai turned his head as he heard his little precious princess running up towards him with a little paper plane in her hand. ”Look what дядя Krueger made for me!!” she jumped up and down excitedly.

“Krueger.” Nikolai raised his eyebrow,amused at the news of his daughter's unlikely playmate.

“дядя Krueger, he’s really good!! He said he’s going to fold more for me!”

“Is he now?” Nikolai jumped down from the top of the helicopter, wiping his hand with a rag before sitting down and waving his daughter over, taking a break from fixing his trusty flying machine.

Anya happily blabbering about what other activities her Tetya and Dyadya had been doing with her. Zhar always lets her sit beside her in the office and draws on scrap pieces of paper, Yuri always follows Anya as she goes around the base,keeping an eye on her in case she runs into trouble. Now Krueger seems to take a liking to the little girl.

His little Princess really has the Chimera wrapped around her little fingers.

Just like how her Ma had him.

His two beloved birds.

The two treasures nearly got stolen from him.

Devastating mistakes he vow not to ever happen again.

Nikolai still has nightmares of the day he found the house full of dead bodies and trails of blood.

Anya’s trembling and traumatised face.

His Lastochka’s tortured body.

The day he felt everything was taken away from him.

For the sins he had committed.

“...And тётя Olga was yelling at дядя Krueger for being a bampot!!” Anya giggled.

“mmm, did she now?” Nikolai replied absentmindedly, patting his daughter’s head.

“… Papa, you are not listening!” Anya pouted as she poked Nikolai, annoyed at her Papa. She adjusted herself to finding a more comfortable position before continuing her report on what she had been up to.

“Oh Papa! can you please take me for a ride in your new plane next time?” Anya begged. “дядя Krueger said you are getting new gears for the team! I want to go for a ride too!”

Nikolai looked down at her daughter. This girl has a strange fixation on flying machines from the time she was born, and it doesn’t help that her uncle and aunties have been giving her toys that are related to helicopters and aeroplanes and everything military like.

Without doubt Anya IS his daughter.

“Now Anya, just remember, don’t throw your Uncle Gaz out of the helicopter like your Papa did –” Gaz warned the little three month old baby as he put more of his newly crocheted dolls and planes into her cot.

“Gaz,I seriously don’t think you need to worry about that…”

“Just yet. Who knows. Not saying this cute little bub will do it but.. If he is indeed her father’s daughter….”

“Gaz…”

“But…”

“Please Papa….” Anya battered her round puppy like eyes, tears gathering. He sighed. He just couldn’t say no to her. “Alright. Remember you have to…”

“Listen to everything Papa tells me to do. I know.” Anya jumped up and gave her father a big hug and a kiss. “Thank you papa. Oh There’s Ma!” Anya turned her head and ran across the room as she spotted you slowly waddling into the hanger.

“Ma! Papa said he will take me for a ride next time in the new plane!!” Anya announced the news excitedly to you as she took your hand and carefully led you to sit down beside Nikolai.

You look at your husband, silently asking the question. He just laughed and shook his head.

“You really can’t say no to her, can you?” You chuckled as you lean against your husband, swatting his creeping hand away from your ass. “You dote on her too much.”

“How can you say no to that sweet little face?” Nikolai replied innocently, settling his hand around your waist instead, and gently running his hand on your raised bump. “I would give everything to keep that sweet smile on her face.” and to keep the happiness on YOUR face.

“Everything?”

“Everything.” Except for letting her take over Chimera. She deserves a world without violence from what she has seen from a young age.

Nikolai watches as Anya spotted another Chimera soldier walking into the hangar and ran towards them to show off her paper planes.

“Well, even if Vitaly says he wants to marry Anya?” you joked.

Nikolai’s face dropped as soon as he heard the name. “Well DID HE NOW.” he growled.

“Nik. he’s only four years old. I don’t think you need to worry about your daughter being taken away by the boy so soon.” you try to sooth your husband’s sour mood. “Besides, are you sure you want to take a toddler’s word so seriously?”

“I don’t like the boy.”

“Just because who his father is?” you frowned. “Nik. We’ve been over this. He is in good hands now. He isn’t going to cause any more harm to anyone else. You know Mylène will make sure of it.”

Nikolai stayed silent.

“Besides, You know Chris will be the first one to go after him and the boy if anything happens.” you spoke up again as you patted your husband’s chest.

“Maybe I should train my son to ward off anyone who comes near his sister..”

“Nik. I haven’t even given birth yet.” You deadpanned.

“Forward planning.”

“Can you please not.” you sighed. “Maybe you should use your time to plan for more useful things…”

“It is useful. Planning for the well-being of my daughter’s future.” Nikolai snorted.

“Or spend a bit more time thinking about your wife’s happiness too.” you cock an eyebrow, toying with his gold chain.

Nikolai immediately took the hint.

“Anya!” He yelled across the room. Anya turned around, halting her conversation with the soldier. “Go to your тётя Olga’s office, Papa and Ma will be a bit busy until dinner time…”

Zhar ended up babysitting Anya until the next morning.

дядя - Uncle тётя - Aunty

@homicidal-slvt @nrdmssgs @siilvan @roosterr @preciouslittlecreature @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot @whydoilikewhump @alypink @ashwasherelol @okayyadriana @liyanahelena @miyabilicious @celshideout @abbeyrjm-blog @shyravenns @okamimarta @gazs-blue-hat @merkitty49 @cumikering

#call of duty #nikolai cod x reader #nikolai call of duty #nikolai cod #sofasoap writes #nikolai call of duty x F!reader

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siilvan · 3 months

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Desideria – Prologue

Pairing: Yuri Volkov/Mylène "Petra" Scholten de Ridder

Summary: Strange circumstances and common enemies brings an unlikely pair together.

Genre: General, angst, light fluff, fem!oc

Warnings: Semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, allusions to trauma and guilt, post-MWIII, Soap’s alive rahhhhhh!!!, Yuri's literally mentioned once in this chapter I swear he'll be in the next one lol

Word Count: 2.4k

Note: I've wanted to write this story for a year now, but I've been too scared to do it. It's pure self indulgence that I think only a tiny handful of people will even read but, nonetheless, I'm posting it. Also, I'm stating this outright: OG Yuri had the superior look. That's the face I always imagine on him, even in the reboot lmao

Very special thanks to my beloveds @sofasoap, @nrdmssgs, and @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot, who gave me the encouragement and support I needed to finally start this series <3

The fluorescent lights overhead provide no comfort to the woman pacing in the corridor, the incessant buzzing the only sound accompanying the soft clacking of the heels of her boots against the tile floor. She wrings her hands, sore from hours of repeating the same motions in an attempt to provide herself some relief from the thoughts plaguing her.

Running through the same scenario. The same five minutes, over and over again.

"Still here?" The familiar deep timbre of her teammate's voice startles her out of her thoughts, drawing her gaze to the man standing further down the hall.

"Of course." Mylène replies, the fatigue evident in her soft-spoken tone. She stands still as he approaches, stopping a few feet away.

"You been here all night?" Simon asks, stuffing one of his hands in his hoodie pocket and scratching at his cheek through the dark surgical mask obscuring the lower half of his face.

She hums, her gaze flitting to her feet as she absentmindedly toes at a speck of dirt on the otherwise pristine floor. "Yeah, got in at around nine. I was bouncing between rooms for a few hours, but I didn't want to risk waking them up, so I've been in the hall since..." She lifts her hand to glance at the watch on her wrist. "One, maybe one-thirty."

"Fucks sake, it's ten o' clock." He huffs in disbelief. "Assuming you haven't ate or drank anything but coffee. C'mon, let's go down to the cafeteria." He says, motioning with his head for her to follow him.

"I don't want to leave them, what if they need—"

"They’re in medically-induced comas, Leni. They're not waking up in the thirty minutes we'll be gone." He states, matter-of-fact.

Those five minutes flash through her mind again. And again. And again. Had she done enough? Was she quick enough? If she prioritized reaching her teammates in distress instead of securing a safe route for herself and her squad, would things have gone differently?

How much of a difference can thirty seconds make?

"Did I do enough?" Mylène mutters, her voice wavering.

She wasn't one easily shaken – she can remember every single moment she's ever been paralyzed with fear, ever been racked and weighed down with doubt and worry, ever hesitated and had to pay the price for it. She could count those moments on one hand. This was easily one of the worst.

"You saved their lives." Simon comments, the shift in his stance showing his discomfort at even acknowledging they needed to be saved. "Y'had Johnny and Mini's mum crying in your arms thanking you for saving her kids. Don't think you have any reason to doubt yourself."

A heavy breath escapes her, dissipating into the air between them.

"Take this to hell with you, captain." The warning faintly plays through the petra's radio, echoing through her teammates radios as they make their way through the tunnels. She was constantly fighting the urge to break out into a dead sprint, the sounds of gunfire only adding to the anxiety buzzing underneath her skin.

"Never bury your enemies alive."

She could tell they were getting close, the commotion reaching her ears unfiltered. With Ghost and Gaz hurrying alongside her, she knew they could clear a path through the Konni soldiers guarding the area without issue, but it was the battle raging beyond them that had the trio moving faster with each step.

After rounding a corner, everything suddenly came into view. Price, lying on the ground half-concussed, with Mini lying flat on her back some paces away. Soap was on a knee, clutching the arm of the man they were sent here to hunt down in the first place.

The man who seemed to haunt her every move, forcing her to make space for him in the back of her mind. The one responsible for her being dragged back into the field after she thought she was done, the one behind so much of the destruction she was always running to clean up. The one with a gun pointed at Soap's temple, his finger comfortably resting on the trigger.

'There's no time to hesitate.' Petra lifts her sidearm, her rifle's magazine having run empty with no time to reload on the way, and aims towards him.

It was like everything slowed, her heart erratically beating against her ribcage as the blood continues to rush to her ears. Her sightline narrows, focused only on Makarov as she lines up the shot. What felt like half a minute was, in reality, a mere breath before she pulls the trigger in a reckless move that she would have scolded anyone else for attempting.

The single bullet that she fires whizzes past her allies, missing the intended target – his skull – and burying itself in the hand wrapped around his pistol.

The world caught back up to speed as Makarov suddenly withdraws with a low cry, a mixture of shock and pain. Soap falls back on the ground alongside the pistol that previously hovered just above his skin, the commander gripping his hand tight as he instinctively backs away from the group.

The pair lock eyes in the second it takes for his reinforcements to arrive, dark bistre meeting mismatched watercolors in a fleeting glance before it was broken by a new wave of gunfire as Ghost, Gaz, and a semi-recovered Price fire on the soldiers.

Makarov slips away on a train coming through, leaving the group to pick up the pieces of the mission-gone-wrong after dispatching the rest of the enemies.

"Captain, we need to do this together!" Gaz was kneeling in front of the dirty bomb, trying to hurry Price, still sluggish, over to help him disarm it.

Petra’s attention flits between the pair of siblings on the ground, her body running on pure muscle memory as she drops down next to Soap. "I'm gonna need your help here, Ghost!" She slings her bag onto the ground next to her, barely sparing the masked man a look as she directs him to go to the younger MacTavish.

"I don't have any supplies—" He tries to protest, kneeling down next to the barely-conscious Mini.

"And I don't have two bodies to take care of them both," She rebuts, already in the process of tearing off Soap's gear so she could start to patch up his several wounds. "Just apply pressure on the worst of it and try to keep her awake."

Soap's eyes crack open, seas of blue staring up at her. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but a ragged breath is all that falls from his parted lips when he tries to force the words out.

"It's okay, Johnny," She shushes him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder when he tries to shift. "Save your strength, I've got it handled from here." She adds. Petra wasn't certain if she was trying to comfort soap or herself.

The reassurance settles him enough that she can work, the small bag of supplies that she could afford to bring along proving to be barely enough to buy him more time. Nonetheless, she pulls back after staunching the bleeding and sends a look towards Price and Gaz.

"I've done all I can do." She states, pursing her lips as she shifts her focus to her other teammate-in-need.

"I'll send for medics. Ghost, Gaz, get him back up to street level. I'll stay here with the girls." Price nods towards the pair, who leap into action before he even finishes giving the command.

Petra kneels down next to the younger woman, her heart clenching at her pained expression. She considers Mini a sister as much as she considers Soap a brother – Soap could take a bullet better than his sister could, though, and Mini had managed to get herself shot even more than he did.

"I'm here, sweetheart." She murmurs, her usually-steady hands shaking as she carefully strips off Mini's gear.

"Johnny..." She gasps, the tears gathered at her waterline streaking down her cheeks after she squeezed her hazy eyes shut. "Is he..." She trails off with a ragged whimper.

"He'll be okay, let's just worry about you for right now." Petra speaks in a low tone, one she usually reserves for the younger patients she comes across, or for those unfortunate enough to spend their last moments in her arms. "We're gonna get you out of here, too. Just stay awake for me, all right?"

Mini gives a small nod, her bottom lip drawn tight between her teeth as the older woman tries to stabilize her. Price silently stands over the pair like a sentinel, nearly forgetting his own wounds for the sake of staying alert enough to keep them safe.

Mylène's hands clench into tight fists at her sides. Even after scrubbing them until her skin turned an angry red and ached, she could feel their blood staining her hands. Sticky, viscous, a deep scarlet standing out against pale flesh. Her stomach churns at the thought of it, bile rising in her throat as she recalls the way the captain wiped her hands clean on the helicopter when she was sitting frozen and staring at them.

Begrudgingly, she follows Simon to the quiet cafeteria. Her mind is anywhere but the present, even as he gently nudges her to sit at one of the empty tables and mutters something about fetching her something to eat.

It was as if everything happened too slowly and too quickly at the same time. Konni starting their barrage of attacks against Urzikstan and their allies, Makarov breaking out of prison, the constant sprint to try and get ahead of him, casualty after casualty lining the streets and threatening to pin her to the bloodstained asphalt alongside them. The task force had few people they could trust and even fewer who could support them; after Price's hasty execution of General Shepherd, albeit well deserved and long overdue, they had burned several of their bridges, too.

She rests her elbows on the table, her head dropping to rest in her palms. A throbbing pain ebbs and flows behind her eyes, blossoming from her temples and wrapping all the way around her skull.

Three weeks since they failed to kill Makarov in london. Three weeks since Johnny and Freya were placed in the intensive care unit. Three weeks since she's managed to get more than a few hours of restless sleep at night.

When would it be enough?

"The old man said he talked to Laswell recently." Simon comments as he sets a small tray down in front of her.

"Give any details on what they talked about?" Mylène hums, quietly thanking him after lifting her head up again. Her stomach growls, reminding her of how long it's been since she consumed anything but crappy black coffee.

He sits across from her with his own cup cradled between his calloused hands, his filled with the aforementioned crappy coffee while hers is filled with water – he gives her a very pointed look when she cocks a brow at it, a silent warning that they both knew he couldn't hope to enforce. Still, she concedes with a tight-lipped smile.

"Given how we're two down at the moment," He mutters after lowering his mask to take a long drink, a deep sigh escaping him. "He and Laswell are thinkin' of splitting us up, trying to cover more fronts."

"I'd think they'd be turning to the few allies we've still got." She comments through a mouthful of sandwich. "They may be somewhat restricted in their movements, but we've got Farah's forces and the Vaqueros on our side. Could probably call in some favors with Chimera, too." She comments, pointing her sandwich at Simon as she blinks at him.

"Don't point that at me." He bluntly states in mock offense, his eyes creased at the edges and giving away the shit-eating grin he was wearing under his mask. "But, that's what they were plannin' anyway. splitting us up to put us with allies."

"Who are they considering?" She asks, lowering her food.

"It's tentative, but I think Price said something about putting me and Riot with the Vaqueros, sending Gaz and himself to work with Farah and Alex, and letting Laswell handle your assignment." He says slowly, with a nonchalant shrug.

Mylène's forehead creases as her brows knit together. "Why the ambiguity with me specifically?"

"My guess? She's wanting to put you on something special." He sits back in his seat. "Like how she stole you for meeting that contact in Verdansk." He adds.

"That'd mean working with Nikolai again." She mirrors him, tapping her short nails against the tabletop. "Can't imagine what she'd be sending me after other than Makarov’s chemical weapons operations, but I don't see how Nik could help with those outside of transport."

"What about that contact? Didn't you say he gave you some... files or whatever, related to Barkov's research?" Simon vaguely waves with his hand, only half-remembering the story she told the team after Laswell dragged her to Arklov Base.

"Colonel Volkov, right..." Mylène clears her throat and reaches for her water. "He might provide useful, but just the information he provided at Arklov posed a major threat to himself. What are the chances of him taking that risk again?" She ponders out loud, chuckling softly.

Simon huffs. "Think anyone with their sanity intact would be willing to take the risk after what Makarov's done with that research."

"You've got me there." She chirps, circling the rim of her cup with her index finger. "I'll give her a call, see if i can't find out more details myself." She murmurs with an affirmative nod.

"No need, Price said she's coming to meet with you in about an hour or so."

"Godverdomme— you should have started with that, Simon!" She grumbles, pushing back from the table and nearly knocking her chair over in her haste.

At least a special assignment would give her something to distract herself with. She just needed to make herself useful – Johnny and Freya were doing their jobs by hanging in there, now it was time for Mylène to do her part.

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psalacanthea · 6 months

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this is for everyone but mostly @tadpole-apocalypse who is of the very correct opinion that Astarion's sibling Petras is in dire need of bullying. I happen to agree, so I took a small break to write something in post-game. :P (is spoilery for my current fic but not hugely)

...

Astarion couldn’t be back soon enough.

People were trying to get Zynatheri to decide things, and utilize her power and parcel out judgments, and she just didn’t want to! The way she’d explained it to Astarion was most sensible. They were making a society of vampires. The politics were going to be corrupt! Why not start the corruption from the top, where it belonged? She’d much rather be his puppet than do work.

And now Petras had showed up, knowing Astarion was gone, and demanded an audience.

She’d already been in the bath, of course, which meant she’d had to heave herself out, throw on some slippers and her robe, and storm down to the meeting room. And then on top of that inconvenience, the part of the palace they did have access to was massive! Enormous ebon corridors where every step echoed, gigantic frescoes of her horrible ancestors and their horrible spider goddess, every surface slick and shiny obsidian. Even the smallest light penetrated far here.

Echoes, too, which she rather thought was the point– every single sound carried.

Dwarfed by the architecture, a clammy bite to the air making her skin prickle, Zyn passed through the hall and into a freshly emptied chamber. The last of the crumbled stone had been moved, the bowed-in stone wall on the left side propped up and tidied up as best as they could. It still looked…rough, but they had seven– six now– thousand vampires to look after. Cosmetics were still a far distant concern.

Before they could try to hire stonemasons or wizards, they had to ensure said professionals wouldn’t be eaten the moment they stepped into the city.

It was rather touch and go.

Passing by a low torch, Zyn clutched at her robe, annoyance turning into frustration and amusement as she mulled over the irritating arrival. Of course. The instant he found out Astarion had left on an expedition to scout further into the city, Petras came to poke at her. After all, she was a surefire way to draw Astarion’s attention.

And Petras very much did want Astarion’s attention, like any annoying little brother.

Not that she knew much about siblings.

In the antechamber outside of the meeting room, a huge vaulted space of ebon columns and recessed ornate sconces of blackened iron, Zyn paused. She tucked her fingers into the component pouch at her belt, searching within until she found her sending wire. Untangling it from the mess, she lifted it to her lips and hummed softly into it until it vibrated in her palm.

Closing her eyes, she sent her voice to her beloved. “Petras has come to try something. Little schemer. I’m going to offend him terribly, so please be prepared. I love you, dearest, so be careful.”

While she waited for a response, she tucked her wire back away.

Astarion’s voice reached her mind within a few moments. “And I love you. If he dies, he dies, but do try to keep him alive? We need him to do the work we won’t.”

He’d managed to just hit twenty five that time! Oh, excellently done. His rhythm and pitch might be horrid at best, but her darling could handle a bit of wordplay.

Steeling herself with that slightest snatch of Astarion’s voice to comfort her, Zynatheri began to do something she had to do so rarely now. She was going to play a part. Glad she hadn’t gotten dressed, she loosened the neck of her dark green, velvet-trimmed robe, letting it slide off of her shoulder, lazy and careless. She tugged out the comb in her hair, letting it untwist, uncoil down to her ankles. The delicate golden comb went behind her ear, contrasting the silver of her swaying hair.

Lazy, idle, uncaring- decorative.

An easy enough ruse.

With the embroidered silk of her robe sliding up her arms, she reached up and pushed open the doors. Normally they were left open because they were so bloody big. Petras must have closed them behind himself, for some petty purpo–

“Forgive me, sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

The doors were pulled away from her hands, her weight shifting dangerously, and although she knew it would likely aid in making a complete ass of Petras, she still couldn’t bring herself to fall into his arms. Yuck. Avoiding his hands, she caught herself and stepped back, staring at him through the now-open doors.

Gods.

She looked at him critically for just a moment– hair unfortunately similar to Astarion’s again, despite the fact that he didn’t have the curls for it. He was wearing his nicer set of clothes, which should have been respectful, but wasn’t. All it meant to her was that he really was trying something.

“Yes, that’s clear,” she said sardonically. His strength was severely lacking in areas other than physical. A complete lack of charm, for one.

And he wanted to be Astarion?

The very idea was laughable.

Petras stepped back politely from the doors. “I’m sorry, I should have reassured you. There was no reason to hurry.”

Why was he being nice?

Ew.

“I didn’t,” she replied, swanning past him and heading for the far end of the table, where her and Astarion’s seats overlooked the rest.

“So you intended to meet me in…wearing that?”

Hells, she wanted to put a hole in him. Or some lightning. “I wear what I like in my home. Please leave your notions of ‘society’ behind. That world rejected you.” She turned at the head of the table with a flare of her robe, hair annoyingly clinging and twisting.

Gods, right, this was why she kept her hair up or shorter. Ugh. It was so heavy. “I would rather speak of a new world. One that we create.” She sank into her chair, gesturing for him to take his.

Much further down the table.

But instead, in some sort of power play, he walked up the line of chairs, running his doughy hand along each one. Zynatheri tried not to be judgemental, but she was a bit of a snob when it came to hands. His fingers were short, and not tapered elegantly. They were repulsive in a way she hadn’t known she’d felt until they were attached to the man himself.

Now every time she saw someone with similar digits she would have no choice but to be disgusted.

“You cut your hair again. I thought you’d been so determined to grow your hair out, now that you’re a ‘full vampire’ at last,” Zyn said, refusing to be cowed when he leaned on top of Dal’s chair and stared down at her. Sometimes it was difficult being the lone mortal.

“You can’t still be holding a grudge over that,” he said, annoyance touching his face. He even leaned back a little, his body language betraying his attempt to manipulate her by seeming friendly. Well, more than friendly. "I didn't mean to kill them."

"But you did."

Here she’d thought he was coming to whine and threaten, but instead he was attempting seduction. As much as these siblings of her lover infuriated her, she felt a deep and profound sympathy for them all. They had all been harmed in the same ways, and had some of the same behaviors, and she could not help but give them grace. Which was Astarion’s fault. He was the one who had softened her heart to his past suffering, after all.

Was it any wonder that concern now extended to his siblings?

It was a strange sensation, the simultaneous desire to protect and care for them, mixed with the constant desire to cause them harm– bully them– both mentally and physically. Was that what they called…siblings? If so, a great many things she had read and witnessed in her life suddenly made much more sense.

All of that to say, she was worried that if Petras was trying to seduce her, there was something very wrong with him. That was dangerous. The family, co-ruler, victim and tormenter both dynamic they all had was precarious, volatile. If it collapsed, so would their delicate, tenuous grasp on the spawn in the city.

That might mean death for them all.

“Whatever you need, if it’s reasonable, I won’t block you– in fact, I’ll help you. There’s no need for this,” Zyn said firmly, hoping that was all it was. Maneuvering, and not…lust or a desire for her blood. If it was bloodlust she could just smack him silly and not feel guilty. "I have no desire to pretend we're friendly."

A well-placed bit of vicious mockery and she’d have him sobbing.

In response, he leaned towards her, Zyn holding her ground with annoyance as he came closer. When his hand darted out, grabbing her by the neck, she only felt relief. Oh, good. He’d come to do something stupid.

Petras glared down his nose at her. “Listen here, cattle. You’re going to watch your tone and do what I say, or I’ll snap this pretty neck of yours.”

Coming from Astarion that would have been attractive and threatening; Petras just managed sullen and bossy. Hardly impressive. Plus, the cattle thing, which was stunningly unattractive. She stared at him flatly, eyes half-lidded, lips pursing into a line. His hand tightened, fingers pressing into the sides of her neck.

Ugh, no, if she didn’t retaliate he’d ruin choking for her with those shapeless, ugly hands of his.

Rather than say something snide, she gathered her rising anger and breath while she still could, and screamed directly in his face. The thuderwave hit him full-force, and Petras went arse over teakettle, hand ripped from her throat as he slammed into the heavy stone chair and then went tumbling to the black tile, landing heavily on his back and skidding.

“That’s it?!” she demanded, voice fighting with the echoes of her scream. Zynatheri shot to her feet and stomped after him, eyes blazing with fury. “All of this just to do your best Cazador impression and attack me? You pissing malcontent! You whey-blooded simpleton! Astarion isn’t stupid and your plan isn’t clever. He’d uncover what you've done, and then you'll be dead!”

Petras pulled himself up to his elbows abruptly, hair just cut back into his old mimicry of Astarion’s falling into his face, making him look all the more stupid. “I am fully capable of hiding a body!” he retorted, vibrating with pure offense.

Her own fury rose in tandem. How dare he think for even a moment he’d be capable of killing her?! “Even if you failed your way into success, he would never stop until he found out what had happened to me,” Zynatheri retorted, stepping in and kicking him back down to the floor, her hands balled up in her robe. He started to struggle back up but she stepped in, planting her foot and shifting all her weight onto it.

She ground her heel into his chest.

“You will listen to me. Astarion’s survival is all that matters to me, and you being content enough not to do anything foolish is important to me because of that.”

His scarlet eyes blazed, lips pulled into a sour, furious grimace.

“All of us are better off because you are alive, so stop trying to die,” she said, dragging her foot across his chest as she pulled back, heel pressing the whole way. Dropping her robe, she smoothed her hands down her soft hips, glaring down at Petras. “But never forget– you are beneath me.” She smiled, slow and mocking, their eyes holding with a vibrant intensity. “So stay beneath me, or I might notice you when I’m feeling less…altruistic. Your oafish presence offends me.”

His fingers clenched into fists. “How dare you. Let go of me!”

“Let go of you? You are entirely free to go,” she said, gesturing with one hand. “Have you forgotten where the door is, I wonder? What a very poor memory you have, Petras. You attacked me. Don’t play the victim.”

Why the Hells was he still lying on the floor? She wasn’t even that strong, she couldn’t have kicked him hard enough to do any damage. What a dramatic little twit.

Well, if he wasn’t going to leave first–

It was petty to step on his shoulder on her way past him, but she did it anyway. A test, perhaps, to see if he would retaliate, but that was just an excuse. The little arse had annoyed her.

He made a small sound in the back of her throat as she ground her weight into his shoulder, but that was all she heard apart from the soft echo of her own footsteps. When she glanced back at the exit to the meeting room, he had pulled up to sit and was staring at her, rage barely contained. She smiled, sweetly.

“Next time your humiliation will be public.”

Oddly, he didn’t snap back immediately, but the intensity of his stare grew all the more intense and venomous. Perhaps he was learning some self-control. When he spoke at last, it was mocking. “I can wait. Sooner or later, Astarion will tire of playing with his food and you’ll be just as dead.”

Was he trying to get her to smack him around more? Ugh. As if she was going to rise to such poorly crafted bait.

“See yourself out, little brother!” she sang mockingly, spinning dramatically and swanning through the doors.

It was an excellent exit despite the insults he was shouting after her, which she was quite smug about. Zynatheri shuffled through the antechamber, yanking her hair over her shoulder so it would stop twisting around her ankles. Very good, very dramatic, hair like this, but she’d forgotten what a nuisance it was. Well, Zyn might as well go chop it off.

Part of her did regret not teaching the brat more of a lesson, but– wait.

Had he been trying to get her to slap him around a bit more? Was that all on purpose? If so, that meant…oh dear.

Malice and misfortune, of course it was.

Zynatheri knew it was a waste of what power her poor body could handle channeling in a day, but Astarion was gone and she needed someone to share this with. Without him, what was the point in anything? If she couldn’t speak with him, why speak at all?

In her haste, mirth bubbling like a spring, mixed with the delight of sheer horror, Zyn Sent to her beloved without counting the words. “Darling, oh my beloved viper! My sanguine heart. Come home, I’m suffering. I may have just accidentally fed one of your brother’s fetishes. Sorry–”

Her fingers clutched around the tangle of wire in annoyance as she was cut off, lips pursing.

“Well,” Astarion responded in her mind, highly amused, “I suppose curiosity killed my little fox, didn’t it? Poor darling. I’ll be home before you know it.”

Pouting to herself, she went skulking back to her bath to scrub the feel of his hand from her skin. All she could do was hope she was wrong, and hope it never happened again. Zynatheri had a small, sneaking suspicion that this was far from over, however. Gods and archdevils, she wanted to kick the little pissant around some more.

But if he liked it...

Ugh, having siblings was complicated.

#bg3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #Astarion x Tav #Tav: Zynatheri Rivati #Pale Petras

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thedeadthree · 2 years

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ANYA (vendetta) // PETRA (sandman)

MINA (when twilight strikes) // LÍADÁIN (a mage reborn)

LIOSLAITH (dnd) // KAROLINA (breach/john wick)

the darlings @risingsh0t, @marivenah, @aceghosts, @leviiackrman, @chuckhansen and @dihardys tagged me to make the loves in the cutest picrew! ty so much dears! and saw @adelaidedrubman and @confidentandgood do this as well! <3

tagging: @griffin-wood, @blackreaches, @queennymeria, @florbelles, @jackiesarch, @arklay, @virassan, @celticwoman, @inkrys, @swordcoasts, @aartyom, @yennas, @steelport, @amistrio, @redroci, @hoesephseed, @rosebarsoap, @loriane-elmuerto, @noonfaerie, @lustyargonianmaid, @shellibisshe and you!

#only if you want to of course! 🖤#oc: annushka zima #oc: petra #oc: mina morganthau #oc: líadáin talovaire #oc: lioslaith mac ruaidhrí #oc: karolina pajari #i realized i never gave karol a proper intro so! introducing karolina!#my oc for the LOVELY if breach and she has a john w*ick verse too!#winter variation!lio my beloved fjsjshd she looks DONE ✨#lio after the bunny soldiers in the feywild ripped her dress 🖤🥴 her dresses are handmade intricate custom made and EXPENSIVE jdjxjxj #gabby reminded me of my dear girl and that i need to catch up on wts 🖤🥺#MISSED HERR. return of the queen! ill be double tasking reading wts and watching the sandman 🖤🖤#karolina thinks fondly of money and santino 💚😌 ( or Michael in her btaj verse!)#introducing petra! she needs a surname buuut she summons demons and other horrors for fun ✨😌#ty macy for solving my three day long DILEMMA on who to set her up with ✨😌🖤🥴 dream her beloved!#true to my brand she’s a tad bit unhinged and set up with the most fascinating sort and brooding beloved she’s ever seen! 🖤😌#(her hair is also like.. a dark brown near black with a red undertone but!)#leg.ocs #leg.tagged #t: picrews #LÍA GETS HET RUNESS ✨😵‍💫🖤🥺 (sort of? she has them all over her instead of just one arm ✨🤧)

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torushawty · 1 year

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ID: KARMA. 20. 5’4. JAMAICAN/FRENCH. SHE/THEY.

BACKGROUND: bisexual, writer, working uni student, psychology major, INTP, horror lover, dog mama, manga reader, former cheerleader, beloved loyal wife to fuck ass toji fushiguro, hopes of being a screenplay writer in the future~

• english isn‘t my first language so if you see any embarrassing typos in my writing i sincerely apologize </3.

INSTRUMENTS: i play electric guitar, piano, clarinet, flute, and i used to play the cello ! i wanna learn to play bass so bad.

FUN FACTS: i have four tattoos and four piercings. some languages i am currently studying is russian, mandarin, and italian. sports i played were basketball & volleyball. in my spare time i love collecting vinyls from the 70s/80s. i also love playing games like gta, fnaf, resident evil, or dead by daylight. oh yeah, i prefer angst over smut if i’m being real :')

WHAT’S ON KARMA’S PLAYLIST: jhené aiko, brent faiyaz, gorillaz, melanie martinez, monsta x, svt, blackpink, tame impala, queen, (the band) the neighborhood, sza, don toliver, lady gaga, ashnikko, britney spears, aaliyah, selena quintanilla, the weeknd, $uicideboy$, backstreet boys, koffee, kim petras, tv girl, partynextdoor, jeremih, ski mask the slump god, insane clown posse, lauryn hill, she wants revenge, erykah badu, flo milli, playboi carti, j cole, kendrick lamar, bob marley, future, kehlani, frank ocean, nicki minaj, nirvana, lesley gore, steve lacy, lana del ray, chase atlantic, kid cudi, rihanna, mitski.

KARMA’S FAVORITE SCARY MOVIE(S): i have a lot and i probably wouldn’t be able to make all of them here </3 but my top three scary movies of all time would be — scream, friday the 13th & the shining, and the ring !!!

KARMA’S FAVORITE ALBUMS: currents, to pimp a butterfly, nevermind, the triology, after hours, crybaby, starboy, k-12, who really cares, a night at the opera, blonde, damn, the pink print, plastic beach, the slow rush, demon days, gemini rights, thriller.

KARMA’S FAVORITE ANIME/MANGAS: tokyo revengers, attack on titan, lookism, lady k and the sick man, dragon ball z, bleach, black clover, assassination classroom, the disastrous life of saiki k, soul eater, berserk, naruto / (shippuden), death note, pumpkin night, a silent voice, secret alliance, jojo’s bizarre adventures, one piece.

#*₊˚👾୧ nintendhoe #no that fine woman isn’t me #that’s the love of my life mariah the scientist . 🥰

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m1ckeyb3rry · 6 months

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Endure VI: Cadets

Series Synopsis: You and Eren Jaeger have been best friends since the age of two, but the two of you are destined for an inevitable tragedy. The world you have been born into is cruel; it is one where friends are traitors and enemies are allies, one where you find yourself doubting everything you've ever known. In this life, mistakes are fatal, and you must be careful, lest you make one too many.

Chapter Synopsis: You and Tullia enlist in the 104th Cadet Corps and meet your new comrades.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader, Armin Arlert x Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4.8k

Content Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, sexual abuse (non-explicit), major character death, angst, original characters included

“I can’t believe it! My baby T is going to join the Cadet Corps!” Petra cooed, sweeping Tullia into her arms and squeezing the life out of her. Her younger sister did not, surprisingly, protest. Perhaps she felt emotional, too. After all, you were really doing this. The two of you had just signed up to join the 104th Cadet Corps, Southern Division.

“Levi says congratulations to the both of us,” you said, folding your latest letter from the man and tucking it into the special box you had gotten to keep them in. The Survey Corps Captain was something of a father figure to you now, and you had become pen pals in the past year, ever since that first letter you had sent him. He would tell you about all of the expeditions the Scouts went on, and you would tell him about the shenanigans you and Tullia got up to.

Two years after the fall of Wall Maria, you were finally back to the way you used to be, or at least as close as you would ever get. Though you would never not miss your old friends, you had accepted your loss and moved on. You smiled and laughed a lot, you played with Merry and Tullia, you did Tullia’s hair, and Petra’s when she was home, you went swimming in the river and climbed trees and made paintings and tried to learn how to cook (though you were mostly unsuccessful in that endeavor).

“Speaking of Levi, any exciting news? Did you catch a glimpse of his bare chest last expedition, Petra?” Tullia said, squirming until her sister dropped her. Petra gasped in outrage at the words.

“I would never invade his privacy by trying to see something like that!” she said.

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t complain if you accidentally walked in on something you weren’t supposed to see,” Tullia responded, waggling her eyebrows. Petra’s face turned a flaming scarlet, and she shoved her sister.

“I would!” she said.

“So you would complain if you saw Levi without a shirt? Wow, Petra, you have a really weird relationship with that man,” you said.

“No, I wouldn’t complain!” Petra sputtered.

“Dirty Petra! Keep your thoughts to yourself or you’ll attract mice!” Tullia reprimanded her, barely able to keep her snickers quiet. As soon as the two of you locked eyes, it was all over, as you dissolved into howls of raucous laughter. Petra scowled and glared at you both.

“Don’t expect me to give you guys any tips for cadet training now!” she said. You and Tullia immediately froze before falling to your knees in front of the older girl and repeatedly bowing in apology.

“Please, Petra!” you begged.

“No,” she said haughtily. You and Tullia exchanged determined glances. You needed to step your apology up, so you did what any sane person would do: broke out into a dance routine.

“What the —?” Petra said in surprise as Tullia did a roundoff. You twirled before bowing again.

“Oh Petra, light of my life, protector of all that is good and holy, my beloved elder sister, please accept our most sincere apologies. We will never make fun of you again if you give us advice for the cadet corps!” Tullia said, springing up from her somersault and saluting proudly at her sister, who scoffed in amusement.

“You two are super weird, you know? Come on, let’s get in the carriage. We can talk on the way. T, say bye to mommy and daddy,” she said, shaking her head and heading out to the carriage. You followed after her faithfully.

“You and your parents will take care of Merry for me, right?” you said. Petra gave you an affectionate look, helping you into the carriage and nodding.

“That’s right. Don’t worry about him. Just focus on becoming the best soldier you can, okay? You’ve got this in the bag, baby,” she said.

“Baby?” you questioned. She flushed but gave you an embarrassed smile.

“You’re like another baby sister for me, just like T is. I know we’re not really family, but I hope you think of me as your older sister, too,” she said. You were overcome with emotion, but Petra’s words struck a chord in you. True, the Rals weren’t really your family, but Petra was like your actual older sister, and Tullia was like a sibling in a way that your other friends had never been. You weren’t sure why that was, for you had known Eren, Mikasa, and Armin far longer than you had known the Ral sisters. Perhaps it was because you actually lived with the Rals, or perhaps it was the emotional turmoil they had helped you through, but either way, they were your family now in every way that mattered.

“We may not be related by blood, but you saved my life and took me in when I needed you. You are just as much my family as my parents and brother were. Thank you, for everything. I’ll never be able to repay you for all that you’ve done for me, Petra. I...love you,” you said, leaning over to hug her tightly. She hugged you back just as fiercely.

“I love you too. And you don’t have to repay me for anything, ever. Just stay alive, you hear me? That’s all I care about. I know what Levi’s told you, and I understand it. If you were anybody else, I’d even agree with it, but you’re you. I don’t care about humanity as long as you and T are okay, understand? That’s your priority,” she said.

“Yes. My priorities are my life, and the lives of my sisters,” you said with a determined nod. Petra smiled at you.

“The three of us are going to give Levi grey hairs early once you and T become Scouts, aren’t we?” she said.

“He’s pretty old already, so I wouldn’t say early, but yeah, we’re definitely going to shave off at least ten years from his lifespan,” Tullia chimed in, entering the carriage as the Rals’ coachmen cued the horses forward.

“He isn’t that old!” Petra said.

“He could be Tullia and I’s father,” you mused, doing the math in your head. He would’ve been a young father, yes, but it was entirely possible. Petra turned an interesting shade of green at that.

“Is it bad that I still have a crush on him?” she said after a second.

“By the walls, Petra, we have a normal father! You should not have daddy issues!” Tullia said.

“I’m going to kill whoever taught you about such things,” Petra muttered.

“I am all knowing and infinite in my wisdom. Nobody taught me about such things; I was born with the knowledge. I suppose you could say God himself taught me,” Tullia said.

“Then I will drop kick God straight down to the underworld as punishment,” Petra said seriously.

“Honestly, I think she could do it,” you said.

“Pet would be the one,” Tullia agreed.

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Petra wondered.

“Whatever you choose to take it as, I guess,” Tullia said. Petra mulled this over before shrugging.

“Thanks, then, both of you,” she said.

“Anything for my favorite big sister,” Tullia said.

“Mine too,” you added quietly. Petra’s smile became gentler, kinder, at this, and she leaned over to kiss you on top of the head.

“Y/N, you must be a saint if you’re letting her do that!” Tullia said.

“Ew, like I’d want to kiss you!” Petra said, wrinkling her nose and inching away from Tullia.

“What? Hey, that’s not nice! I’m not gross, I smell nice!” Tullia said in surprise at her sister’s rejection. Petra hugged you close to her. Tullia furrowed her brow and sniffed her arm in worry.

“You do smell nice, Tullia. So do you, Petra,” you offered, cuddling close to Petra, who smirked victoriously at her little sister. For her part, Tullia stuck her tongue out at the girl, who responded in kind.

Eventually, you reached Trost, which was where your division of the 104th Cadet Corps was based from. You noticed that you were the only ones arriving via carriage, which made sense. Most people that joined the military were orphans or refugees that had no other options in life but fighting or the fields.

To be fair, you and Tullia were much the same. Your situation was prettied up a little more, but you knew the truth. The Rals needed money desperately because of Mrs. Ral’s failing health, which was why Petra and Tullia had both signed up for the military. As for you, well, you had your promise to Eren to fulfill, but more than that, you didn’t want to keep relying on the Rals’ hospitality, willing to provide it though they were. There weren’t many options for a girl your age, relatively unskilled but decently good looking: brothels, the fields, or the military. It was clear which choice was superior to the others.

“Petra Ral. Back again for more training?” a tall, bald, gruff-looking man with dead eyes said.

“Nope, it’s these two’s turn. I’m going to be honest, Commandant Shadis, you’re a lot less scary than Captain Levi. No offense,” Petra said as if she was utterly shocked by this revelation. Commandant Shadis smiled, though it resembled a wolf baring its teeth more than anything. You were not sure how Levi could possibly be scarier than this man, but then you remembered that Petra had seen Levi in action against the titans and surmised that she was probably right.

“Ah, little Tullia Ral, and...whoever you are. The two of you, go get in your uniforms and line up. You’ll be meeting the rest of your comrades in the 104th today,” he said, nodding at you before turning to have a conversation with Petra about her trials and tribulations in the Special Operations Squad.

As you and Tullia pulled your uniforms on, you felt a sense of belonging settle over you. This was what you were meant to do with your life. You were finally, finally going to begin to be better than you used to be. And you’d have Tullia by your side through it all.

The two of you had been able to snag a room together, a fact for which you were eternally grateful. You were excited to make new friends, sure, but sleeping in the same room as a stranger wasn’t the most appealing thing to you. You were happy that the girl who was like your sister was the one you’d be with instead.

“Are you really going to just leave your hair like that?” Tullia said, flicking at your hair disdainfully. You shrugged, finishing up the final buttons of your shirt.

“Yeah, why not? I don’t feel like putting it up, and besides, my hair’s well behaved. It won’t get me in trouble, will it?” you cooed, petting your own head as if you were talking to an animal.

“You are seriously odd sometimes. Well, let me know if you ever want me to braid it or anything,” she said.

“Don’t think I will, but thanks for the offer anyways. You’re an angel,” you said.

“Tell Petra that, though I doubt she’d believe you even if you did,” Tullia said with a scoff.

“I’m afraid that you’re right on that count. Are you excited?” you said.

“For what, you telling Petra that I’m an angel? I mean, I guess so?” she said. You rolled your eyes and flicked her forehead as you walked outside to join the rest of the cadets in the lineup.

“No, dummy, making new friends and stuff. I hope the people here are nice, we’ll be spending the next three years with them,” you said, standing and facing away from the sun next to a boy with buzzed hair. He was short, but his olive eyes danced with mischief.

“Hey, what’s your name?” he whispered.

“Y/N. You?” you said.

“Connie Springer, but you can call me your future husband,” he said with a wink. You were in awe of his audacity, but you could tell by the way he was grinning that he was only joking, so you decided to play along.

“We’ll see about that, Connie. Aren’t you going to ask me what my last name is?” you said.

“Sure. What’s your last name, Y/N?” he said.

“Well, it was L/N, but it’s Springer now,” you said. He whistled lowly before blowing you a kiss.

“I mean, if you insist. Anything for you, my love,” he said.

“Thank you, my love,” you said dramatically, placing your hand over your heart.

“You’re funny. I like you,” he said.

“I should hope so, considering we’re apparently married now,” you said.

“Yeah, yeah, forgot about that part,” he said.

“How could you? It only just happened! Why, you’re hurting my feelings, Connie! I think I would like for us to divorce!” you said, scandalized. He pretended to wipe away a tear from his cheek.

“Our relationship was beautiful while it lasted,” he sniffed.

“I’ll never forget you, Connie. If only you could say the same about me,” you said.

“Don’t hold this over me forever, woman!” he said.

“I will, man!” you said.

“I genuinely cannot tell what relationship dynamic is going on over here, but I for one am fascinated by it,” Tullia said.

“We just operate on a different level, isn’t that right, Mr. Springer?” you said.

“Absolutely, Mrs. Springer,” he said.

“Ex-Mrs. Springer,” you corrected him. You decided you rather liked Connie. He was wickedly funny and he seemed kind, at least. If all of your comrades were like him, you would be quite happy.

Engaged in conversation with Connie and Tullia, you missed the first few cadets introducing themselves. You felt bad, but you knew you’d all be acquainted with each other soon enough, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Commandant Shadis stared you straight in the eyes before moving on without making you say a word. Perhaps he knew that nothing he could do to try and intimidate you would be enough to scare you. You had already seen the titans, had watched as they devoured your family, had barely escaped with your life. No mere man would ever be enough to make you fear anymore.

Connie was not so fortunate, getting thoroughly reamed out by the Commandant for saluting with his hand on the wrong side. Rookie mistake, but one you doubted he would ever make again.

Tullia was also left alone, the hard look in her eyes one that Petra had drilled you both on for countless hours as a way to ward off unwanted men’s advances. If only you had known about it back in Shiganshina. You doubted Oskar would have bothered you so much if you had glared at him properly, even just once.

A handsome boy named Jean Kirstein was completely shamed for wanting to join the military police. To be honest, you didn’t blame him. He just wanted to live. Was that really so wrong? He seemed cocky and arrogant, true, but he also had the air of someone with the skills to back up his big words. He had a strong jaw, and his eyes shone a warm golden brown when they flicked past where you and Tullia were as he stood from where the Commandant had knocked him to his feet. His cheeks were pink, and he scowled when he noticed your curious stare, surreptitiously giving you the finger once Commandant Shadis had moved on to yell at a girl eating a potato. You frowned and looked at your feet once more.

As the potato girl was sent to run laps and everyone else was dismissed to eat dinner, you grabbed Tullia’s hand and fairly sprinted to your room before everyone else could get there. Once the door had safely shut behind you, you both burst into laughter.

“By the walls, we have the weirdest class by far!” Tullia wheezed.

“Poor Connie! And the potato girl!” you said, wiping away tears as you changed out of your uniform and into your everyday clothes, Tullia doing the same.

“That Jean boy seems like a dick, but I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t attractive,” she mused, redoing her braids with nimble fingers that were well-used to the familiar motions.

“He gave me the finger earlier,” you said sadly.

“Asshole! Him, not you. By the walls, I hate men,” Tullia said, shaking her head.

“I think he was just embarrassed about how the Commandant treated him, that’s all,” you said, your voice quiet as you laced up your boots.

“Whatever. I’m sure there’s cuter boys around. Connie was funny, at least. It seemed like you two got along,” she said with a suggestive smirk. You laughed out loud and shook your head.

“Goodness, no. I’d want to be his friend, but certainly nothing more than that. He is funny, though, I’ll give him that,” you agreed.

“Somewhere, a short little boy with buzzed silver hair is crying right now,” Tullia said.

“Somewhere? Don’t you mean in the Mess Hall, where we should be if we want to get any food?” you said.

“Hold on, I’m almost done. Patience is a virtue and gluttony is a sin, which means you just double dipped in the pot of offensive ranch dressing,” Tullia said.

“I hate ranch dressing,” you deadpanned.

“I hate you,” she deadanned back.

“Let’s just go eat,” you said, drawing your cardigan tighter around your shoulders in an attempt to ward off the chilly night air. She did the same and gave you a winning smile.

“Yeah, sure. It’s probably for the best. I don’t want to deal with a hangry Y/N,” she said, rolling her eyes as you headed towards the Mess Hall.

“I don’t get hangry!” you snapped.

“Yeah, and Petra doesn’t have a crush on Levi. Just because we say things doesn’t mean they’re true,” she said. You were going to respond with something snarky as your stomach rumbled, but then you realized that that would just be proving her point, so you kept your mouth shut. She grinned at your acceptance, and you fixed her with a baleful stare as you walked into the Mess Hall.

“There’s barely anything left!” Tullia said in dismay as you filled your trays with the meager food that had been passed over by the other cadets in their quest for dinner.

“Maybe if somebody hadn’t taken a million years to braid their hair just right for Jean Kirstein, we wouldn’t be having this problem!” you hissed, ladling a spoonful of cold soup into your bowl.

“I was not doing it for Jean Kirstein!” she said.

“Oh yeah? I hope not, because he looks pretty disgusted. I think it’s because the left one is crooked,” you said. Her face went white, and she immediately put her tray down and took the braid out before redoing it.

“Does he still look disgusted?” she whispered. You snickered.

“He never did, Tullia dearest. I was just messing with you, but you proved my point quite perfectly. Oh, I think your boyfriend’s about to get into a fight,” you said.

True to your words, Jean was standing to face off another boy, whose face you could not see, as his back was to you. He had shaggy brown hair that reminded you of Eren’s, and you smiled fondly, finding yourself rooting for him just because of that, though you didn't even know what the two were fighting about.

“Who are you cheering for?” Tullia asked.

“Brown hair,” you said immediately.

“Really? I’ll go with Jean, then,” she said, “Just to be a contrarian.”

As you watched, however, the two boys ended up shaking hands. Though it was a let down, as it meant you wouldn’t get to watch a fight, it was probably for the best. You were going to have to work together in the future, after all. There was no place for senseless rivalries in the military.

And then the brown-haired boy turned around to leave the Mess Hall. Your eyes met, and you felt like you were drowning again. They were bright jade, filled with curiosity and that ever-familiar wonder. Your tray slipped from your grasp and clattered to the ground, and you were dimly aware of Tullia scolding you, but it was unimportant. You pointed at the boy, your hand shaking.

“Are you really here?” you said. He seemed as awed as you were, his eyes wide as he drank in your appearance. The world faded away for a moment, leaving the two of you in some liminal space where you were the only ones that existed.

“Y/N,” he said gently, his voice wavering as if he could not quite believe his eyes.

“Eren,” you said, your throat dry. Tullia stopped her ranting to look at you and then at the boy and then back at you.

“Woah, wait, like your childhood best friend Eren? Your dead childhood best friend Eren?” she checked. The other cadets had gone back to whatever they were doing, not at all interested in the bizarre turn of events, most likely because for them, it was nothing out of the ordinary.

“I thought you were dead,” Eren said, reaching his hand towards you and then drawing it away sharply. You looked at his hand, his warm, rough, familiar hand that had once fit in your own as if it was made to be there. You wondered if it still did. A flash of white caught your eyes, and you were further surprised to see a white ribbon tied around his wrist.

No, not just any white ribbon. It was the white ribbon you used to put your hair up with. It had gotten caught in the wreckage when Petra had saved you, and so it had been undone and discarded without thought. Yet here it was, with Eren the whole time.

Noticing your gaze, he laughed bitterly. “We found it, Mikasa and I, when we went back to get my mother. It was pretty obvious what had happened at that point. You had been eaten. Yet...here you are.”

“I thought the three of you had been eaten,” you said, “My parents said you guys had been playing close to where the breach was, and then they were killed and so was my brother and then Petra saved me, and we looked for you afterwards, but we could never find you, and you’re dead, right? You’re dead, this is just a hallucination or something. Damnit, what the hell did Tullia feed me?”

“I’m not dead. Neither are Mikasa and Armin. We managed to escape. Armin got Mr. Hannes to save us, though he wasn’t able to get to my mother in time. She was eaten, just like your family,” he said.

Your families were gone. But you were here. He was here. It might not have been what you had had in mind, but it was enough.

Just like that, the barriers broke, and then you were flying into his arms, and he was hugging you as tightly as he had when you were two, and three, and four and five and six and every other year that the two of you had spent together; because this was a fact of life, as true as the sun was bright: Eren Jaeger was your best friend, and in some way, shape, or form, you would always fit together. The puzzle pieces of your minds and hearts and bodies would change and evolve, but always in tandem, ever parallel, so that even after years apart, he was as familiar to you as your own self.

“You’re alive,” you choked out.

“You’re alive,” he repeated, and you were crying tears, though they were not of grief or sorrow but joy as your heart sang at the reunion. He was like a miracle of some sorts. Certainly, no human could cheat death itself and find you once again, so long after you had last parted.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for that stupid argument. I wish we had never fought,” you said, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I know. I know, it was all my fault, I thought you died hating me,” he said, and you were surprised to feel warm tears dripping onto your neck as he started to cry.

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. We may fight, and argue, and disagree, but never hate,” you promised him.

“Okay,” he said, clinging onto you, and for once, it was you comforting him and not the other way around. You found you did not mind.

“Are Armin and Mikasa here?” you whispered after a moment.

“Yes! Yes, oh, they’re not going to believe this!” he said, drawing back from you with a brilliant smile, though his eyes were rimmed with red, and you knew yours were the same.

“Wait, Eren, before we go, I want you to meet someone. This is Tullia Ral. Her older sister saved me from the titans, and I’ve been living with them for the past two years. She’s like my sister,” you said, pointing at Tullia, who had been awkwardly standing beside you the entire time. She waved at Eren.

“Hey, Eren! I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said.

“Uh, is that a good thing?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, using his other one to hold yours in a death grip.

“I think so!” Tullia said cheerfully.

“Let’s go meet Mikasa and Armin, and we can introduce Tullia to them, too,” you said. Eren was positively glowing at this, and with his other hand, he grabbed Tullia’s and dragged the two of you behind him to meet your other two childhood friends.

“Where did you rush off to, Eren?” Mikasa said dryly when you neared their table. Eren responded by shoving you forwards. You stumbled but straightened yourself and waved at the duo, whose jaws dropped when they saw you.

“Mikasa, please pinch me. I think I’ve gone insane, because I’m pretty sure that’s Y/N standing right there,” Armin said.

“No, Armin, if you’re insane, I am too, because I can see her as well,” Mikasa said.

“Guys, she’s really here! She’s alive! She’s been alive this whole time!” Eren said. Mikasa slowly stood, running her hands over your face as if to check and see if you were really, truly there. Determining you were solid, at least, she leaned down to listen to your heartbeat. After a second, she straightened, her dark grey eyes filling with tears as she looked at you before gathering you in a hug.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” she said.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you said, her familiar sweet almond scent making you feel at home once again, bringing up warm memories of nights by the fire and her silky hair running through your fingers as you weaved it into impossible to replicate knots and plaits.

Pulling away from Mikasa, you turned to the final boy you had spent your time with. The boy with the ocean in his eyes and the hair like spun gold; the boy who read books to you and showed you every single picture contained in their pages: Min-Min, your Min-Min. He smiled, a bright, wide smile that showed his pearly teeth. Everything about him seemed almost seraphic in nature, just like it had when you were younger, and you adored him for it. You hugged him, too, and finally, some long-missing piece of your soul was restored as you were once again surrounded by your best friends from childhood. You did not need to say anything to Armin. He was smart, he understood what you meant when you hugged him and pressed your face against the crook of his neck — I’ve missed you, I love you, don’t ever leave me like that again.

You introduced Tullia to them, and the five of you wasted the night away learning what the others had been up to while you had been separated. Though you had started off sitting beside Mikasa, you had somehow gravitated towards Eren. Nobody questioned it. It was simply the natural order of things. You belonged next to Eren and he belonged next to you. It was black and white in a world where shades of grey reigned supreme.

As the moon inched across the sky and your yawns became harder and harder to ignore, you mutually agreed to return to your rooms and continue to speak over breakfast tomorrow. Mikasa had to all but carry you towards your dorms, refusing to let anyone else do it, and Eren graciously helped Tullia, who was feeling a little sick after eating the spoiled soup that had probably never even been good in the first place.

None of you noticed Jean Kirstein watching through the window of his dorm, regret filling his face before he closed the curtains and turned away.

#eren x reader #armin x reader #eren x y/n #armin x y/n #eren x you #armin x you #canon au #reader insert #endure #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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